Dorian X Basil - Tumblr Posts

Imagine

A “The Picture of Dorian Gray” and a “The Great Gatsby” fusion where Dorian and Gatsby are rich besties who go out to lunch everyday, and Basil and Nick think all they talk about is Sybil and Daisy,,,,,,,,but they actually gush about Basil and Nick?????

Idk I think that’d be cute

Lord Henry and Tom are besties too

You know, I think it’d be such a game changer if Dorian didn’t keep his portrait situation a secret and didn’t decide to let it (and himself) destroy him behind closed doors. As the story progressed, Dorian became more of a menace and people must have known that there was something up. But what if Dorian, early on, realized that he (and the portrait) was driving himself crazy and sought help?

If Dorian sought help, then everything that happened following Dorian’s descent into madness wouldn’t have happened, and that could, in a perfect world, be good. But when author’s purpose and Oscar Wilde’s true meaning behind the book is considered, what happened had to happen.

What I’m getting at is: what if Dorian sought help from Basil? What if Dorian told Basil about the things happening to not only him but also the portrait? How would Basil react and what would he do about it?

Now, I’m a Basil x Dorian shipper (🫡) and I definitely think they had a little something-something going on at the beginning of the book. A relationship that’s just a tad more than platonic is highly detectable (and almost implied) in the beginning of the book. So of course, I think about these questions in a fruity, Dorian x Basil manner.

What I think would happen is, Dorian takes forever to tell Basil about the portrait. His friend painted it for god sakes and spent so much time on it! It would crush Basil to find out that the portrait has been “damaged.” So he prepares what he’s going to say to Basil, but he doesn’t follow up with the plan as he, one night when in deep despair, ventures to Basil’s studio on a whim and begs him for help. Basil is taken aback at first but has got to help his friend, so he listens to Dorian’s frantic spiel about how he’s been feeling lately and the current state of the portrait. Now there’s room for some good old fluff here if you so desire, but on with the main point.

So what are Basil and Dorian going to do? Well first they’re going to go see the portrait and assess from there. I imagine that Basil would question Dorian on how the portrait came to be and through his questioning and Dorian’s teary answers, it surfaces that Lord Henry had something to do with igniting Dorian’s desire to stay young and beautiful forever, so Dorian made a wish/sold his soul to obtain eternal youth and beauty. From there they begin to come up with ideas on how they can reverse this wish/deal and on a whim Basil comes up with the idea to just repaint the impurities on the portrait and make it look like new. Now with that I imagine it messes with Dorian’s head and makes him feel worse so they try other things.

This whole thing could either end in prosperity or tragedy. I’ve thought about it in a few ways. The prosperous ending would include un-wishing the wish/taking back the deal or some other supernatural thing. The tragic ending would include the destruction of the portrait if they decided to give up and see if just “forgetting about it” and “getting rid of it” would help ease Dorian’s mind about the whole thing. This could end like how the book did, or it could actually end in prosperity (so this ending could go two ways technically, but I label it tragic). Another tragic ending could be Dorian’s portrait taking over him and what happens in the book happens here, but of course some of it is altered because Dorian’s dilemma isn’t a secret to Basil. Now that to me is an absolute tragedy. One more tragic ending could be the un-wishing/reversing of the deal/whatever happens going south and turning on Dorian some how, either killing him or whatever other outcome that is tragic. The whole un-wishing thing could be taken either tragically or prosperously. Most of these endings could be taken both ways, honestly, but this is what I’ve come up with. I typically like a tragically happy ending when it comes to things like these, so I like to think that everything was fixed and Dorian’s okay :) but there was some struggle involved for him and Basil.

All of this is completely random but it stemmed from questioning Dorian’s secrecy about his dilemma and if he would tell/who he would tell. It’s just an idea. I could expand on it and write something more about it (like a fic) but I’ll see about that. Honestly this idea could be taken so many ways and I’m sure other people have thought about something along the lines of this. This is just my take on it. If I were to expand on it, it would of course include a lot of Basil x Dorian 🥴. They have a chokehold on me I swear-

If you read my musings and made it until this point, thanks; here’s a cookie 🍪

Decided to post this doodle of Dorian kissing Basil’s head because head kisses >>>>. I like to think that Basil’s hair is really fluffy. Just a small doodle drawn at 4 AM. I hope to post some digital art of them soon ✨

I’m back with more Basil and Dorian doodles! I managed to complete a full page of doodles in one night which I haven’t done in a while. Felt good lol. It was super late when I was drawing all of these so 🫢

Okay PLEASE don’t look too close at Lord Henry.. I haven’t drawn him in a very long time and I’m still trying to develop a look for him.

But anyway- so I like to imagine that Lord Henry takes on the role of Cupid between Basil and Dorian, doing anything in his power to get these two together. They like each other and they try to show it, but the other doesn’t pick up on anything, so Harry stepped in to help. (They’re so oblivious it pisses Harry off). He leaves them alone in rooms, he helps one or the other build up enough courage to ask the other out, the whole nine yards. In result, I imagine Basil and Dorian tell him EVERYTHING that happens, and sometimes they get a little too personal 😶 but it’s because they’re excited and have no filter when they’re excited (I included a little funny at the end)

Harry is doing the lord’s work for these two I guess🤷‍♀️

Okay while it’s still fresh in my head-

So am I just making things up or did Wilde mention a few times in The Picture of Dorian Gray that Dorian had a horse? Because I swear he did. I remember reading about a horse once or twice. Honestly there was a good chunk of the book that I totally forgot and it’s everything that doesn’t have to do with Basil and Dorian being fruity 💅.

Anyway, following the idea that Dorian has a horse, I drew her! (I think a mare was mentioned). As far as I know there wasn’t any name given to the horse so I decided to name her and her name is Mary, after Mary Shelley. I have a Dorian fic where Dorian introduces Basil to Frankenstein, so that’s where the name Mary came from.

I haven’t drawn horses in a while so bear with me as I rekindle my horse drawing skillz. Also I tried to look at Victorian horse tack references and all that shows up is ladies riding side-saddle and their dresses are covering most of the horse 😐. So I just gave Dorian’s horse modern English tack (I made the saddle too big-) I imagine she’s a black English thoroughbred :)

Basil and Dorian riding horses together?

Okay so, I was thinking about the post I made some time ago last month about how it’d be a game changer if Dorian told Basil about his decaying portrait and how it mentally affects him, and how they’d work on fixing the issue. I felt like writing a short fic just for fun to practice some writing and expand on a small idea I had. I wanted to pair a doodle with it that relates to the whole idea but for some reason I just couldn’t ✨art ✨and I don’t feel like frustrating myself further 😐. So now a small fic will ensue:

(Reminder: most of this isn’t accurate to the original novel. It just spans off from a little idea I had and is mostly consisted of little tidbits from my head canons for these two 💖)

🫐🍑

“We will try something else, Dorian,” said the disgruntled painter as he retired a brush to his easel.

Dorian Gray let out a half-frustrated, half-anxious sigh. He had been perched on a stool across from where Basil had stationed himself behind a large canvas and easel for hours now, sitting for a portrait that had already been completed years ago. Dorian dropped his perfectly poised self and slouched, letting his weight fall down onto the stool. He watched as Basil began to clean up his little work station, grabbing paint cans and shoving them inside of a crate.

“What else is there to try?” Dorian croaked. He brought a pale hand up to rub his tired eyes.

“We will figure something out. But for now let us settle down for the night. It’s far too late to keep you at it anyway,” replied Basil.

Dorian Gray exhaled slowly. He was about to offer his help to the painter but refrained when he reminded himself that he would instantly be denied. Basil typically never accepted help from anyone, especially Dorian—and especially when Dorian was in such a compromised state.

After sitting on the stool for another minute, Dorian decided to get up to make his way over to the divan just a few feet away from where he was. He looked at it, somewhat mapping his route there as if he were about to cross a rickety bridge over a volcano. There was nothing in his way, but he felt horrendously lightheaded and feared he would fall if he was not extra careful. Slowly he slid off of the seat. Just as he did so, he felt blood rush all throughout his head and blur his vision. He gripped the seat of the stool for a moment while he recomposed himself with a groan.

Immediately Basil turned around. “Are you alright?” he questioned.

“Yes, yes I’m alright, Basil,” Dorian murmured. He finally left the stool and inched his way over to the divan on which he flung himself. He brought a hand to his forehead. “I’m alright.”

Basil huffed in slight concern. Before picking up his paint palette, he passed the easel and stopped to gander at the portrait. Before him was the horrible picture of Dorian Gray that he painted years ago—only, he did not paint it that way. It did not look horrible when he first painted it, instead having shown the wonderful image of a young man in the prime of his youth, with a radiant smile and rosy lips and eyes as blue as the sky. Now the portrait was corroded, even down to the fibers of the canvas it was painted onto. The figure standing tall in the center wore a ghastly expression; his skin was grey and decayed; his hair was the color of hay that had been left out too long in the rain. The whole portrait looked like it had been vandalized, and it had, but not by hand. Years had passed between the completion of the portrait and that very moment in Basil Hallward’s studio, and the man seated on the divan had not aged one bit. Both Basil and Dorian very well knew the story, though, and resolved not to think about it in great detail as it brought anguish to them both, especially Dorian. Basil uttered a soft noise of acknowledgment.

“Oh stop looking at that damned canvas, would you, Basil?” Dorian groaned, feeling his friend’s worry and confusion from across the room.

“My apologies, Dorian. I just—my God, this is not something I ever thought could be possible in all my years,” said Basil. He turned away and continued cleaning up.

Dorian sighed. “It’s what I get for selling my soul, no? It was bound to happen, Basil.” He lowered himself further on the divan to lie down on his side. His head felt like a whirlwind and he tried shutting his eyes to combat the feeling.

“Don’t talk like that. You merely made the wish of an innocent boy whose mind was plagued with foolish ideologies. I told you not to listen to Harry.”

“Please, Basil; Harry hadn’t any idea what he was saying, either. After having seen me battle with this, he has completely changed the way he thinks. Trust me, Basil. I know you haven’t spoken to him in a while, but…he changed.”

Basil snorted, pushing up his spectacles with his right middle finger. He began to scrape the dried paint off of his palette with a palette knife. The sound of the knife against the palette made Dorian flinch and shudder.

“I don’t like what Harry has done to you,” Basil remarked after a moment of silence had gone by. His back was turned to Dorian.

Dorian Gray took one of the pillows on the divan and used it to shield his fragile eyes from any abrasive light shining from the ceiling’s lamps. He hugged it close to his face. “Harry did nothing to me, Basil. It was I who ruined myself. It was I who made that ‘innocent wish’ as you call it,” he said.

The painter hit Dorian with a fast rebuttal almost before Dorian could finish speaking. “No,” he said, quite authoritatively. “No. It was Harry who fed you such foolish ideas about life and youth and boyhood, and practically sold you on staying young forever as if he were the Devil himself.”

Removing the pillow just a tad, Dorian peeked at his friend across the studio. He looked at his broad shoulders, how stiff they were with concern and pummeling stress. He caught a glimpse of his frantic eyes and how they scanned over everything in the studio (especially the portrait). And he noticed, in the sea of jet black that made up Basil’s luscious curls, plentiful strands of grey hair that served as Dorian’s marker for how much time truly had passed. Basil was so youthful when he painted the portrait. It was as if whatever was happening to the portrait was also happening to Basil, not because of Dorian’s foolishness, but because of the worry he felt deep inside for Dorian Gray that eventually began to mar him physically. Anything decayed because of Dorian, it seemed.

“Basil, please,” Dorian mustered out with whatever voice he had left in him before it cracked. “Please stop it. Please come sit down. I don’t want to hear anymore talk about Harry or his ‘involvement’ with all of this. He is just as innocent as you are—as everyone is besides me. Now come sit.”

“Why, do you not feel well?” Basil questioned.

Almost instantly upon hearing his friend’s voice he was on high alert. He knew Dorian had not been feeling well ever since the portrait began to show its first signs of sin, and that no medicine could cure the anguish Dorian endured because of it. Seeing Dorian decline rapidly pierced Basil’s heart. Whenever Dorian began to feel unwell, Basil began to feel anxious. In turn he dropped his palette and knife and jumped to Dorian’s aid. He crouched down next to the divan.

“There you are,” Dorian sighed, relieved.

“Do you need anything? I could put on some tea, or see if the nighttime market is still open if you are hungry, or—“

“No. Just sit.”

Basil adjusted himself to sit on the wooden ground next to the divan.

“If I am going to retire for the night, so are you. You have been painting away at that portrait since”—Dorian peered at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room—“five-o’clock yesterday morning. It is now three-o’clock in the morning of the next day. Just relax; there is nothing more we can do.”

Basil shook his head. “We will try something else, Dorian. I promise,” he said.

With a shaky hand, Basil cupped Dorian’s soft cheek and rubbed it with this thumb. He brushed over Dorian’s faint freckles, eying them like they were constellations amidst a wide galaxy. Dorian was as beautiful as he was on the day Basil met him. He wondered how Dorian would look if he actually had aged in the years spanning between the completion of the portrait and that very moment in the studio. Probably just as beautiful if not even more beautiful.

“What else are we going to try, Basil? We have tried London’s best psychics, we have tried churches, and we have just tried painting over the impurities in the picture. What more can we do?” Dorian whispered, his exhausted blue eyes staring into Basil’s frantic brown ones.

“We will—“

“I don’t want to waste your time,” added Dorian. The volume of his voice rose from a whisper to a cracked mumble.

Bail was taken aback. “You are not wasting my time, Dorian,” he declared. “I willingly—“

“But I am. All we have been doing for months now is running around like lunatics, trying to erase the mistake I made. I should have never sought your help if it were going to be this time consuming and wear you down so much. I feel as though I have destroyed you and any beautiful thing in my path after I sold my soul away,” Dorian Gray spoke. Tears budded in his bloodshot eyes.

“You forget that you sought my help and I willingly gave it to you. You forget that I value you more than anything else, Dorian Gray. You have not destroyed me. There is nothing you could do to me, Dorian, that would destroy me. You are too much of an angel,” Basil said.

Dorian turned further in towards Basil as a small whimper escaped his mouth. He still hugged the pillow. “I am a devil, Basil. You forget that.”

“I won’t hear it. Listen to me, Dorian. I am helping you because I love you. If I did not love you, I would have never painted this portrait in the first place. I love you too much to stand by and watch you suffer under this mysterious curse. I am going to do anything and everything in my power to bring you out of it, whatever that may be,” declared the painter.

A singular tear rolled down Dorian’s cheek and onto Basil’s hand. It was wiped away immediately only for another few to follow. Dorian lied there in silence, hugging the pillow and staring down at the floor before him. He embraced the gentle pressure he felt on his cheek from Basil’s large hand. He felt safe for a split second when he gave into the feeling of Basil’s hand. But then when he looked back up at the painter and saw worried eyes, trembling lips, and grey hair, he shuddered at the wilted flower he killed.

“You have always been an incredibly selfless man, Basil Hallward,” he murmured.

“I have always loved you, Dorian Gray,” Basil returned.

The studio fell silent. Dorian turned back over to look at Basil directly in his eyes. He was a tad unsure of what exactly Basil had said, but it was no matter. He took the painter’s cheek and pulled him into a delicate yet full and ginger kiss. His hand sailed up from Basil’s cheek to the back of Basil’s head where it gently rested while their lips remained locked.

Basil was taken aback by the kiss but accepted it nonetheless, equally meeting Dorian halfway in the gesture. He found himself being unable to breathe properly but somehow managing to close his eyes and enjoy a kiss for once without being overly anxious about it.

After another moment or two, Dorian slowly pulled away, hand still planted on Basil’s cheek. He kept his face near the other’s just enough to whisper, “And I have always loved you too, Basil Hallward.”

The words made Basil melt. He smiled softly at Dorian Gray and shuddered at the sensation of his lips being brushed with Dorian’s thumb. He lowered himself down to lie his head on Dorian’s shoulder, just enough to allow Dorian most of the space but to also keep them both comfortable. Dorian’s hand ran up Basil’s back and to his hair; he played with the jet black, almost licorice-like locks, and took extra time playing with some of the grey strands he came across. Everyone he knew had grey hair for the most part except himself.

“Should I call us a cab to get home?” Basil questioned a moment later, rising from Dorian and the divan.

Dorian’s hand was still in Basil’s hair, ruffling it softly. “I am afraid I cannot move from this spot.”

“Are you not feeling well?”

“I feel as though I must faint or fall asleep, one of the two. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Alright then. I will stay the night here with you.”

A sigh escaped Dorian’s mouth. “You are so sweet, but if you must go home—“

“No, I mustn’t. I can stay the night here with you,” said the painter matter-of-factly.

Dorian rubbed his sore eyes and smiled at the man next to him as best as he could. “Take that coat off first, at least; it’s got paint all over it.”

Basil looked down at the garment he was wearing: a brown coat that was not so brown anymore, instead a mix of colors ranging from blues to purples to oranges to yellows. He shrugged it off and tossed it to the side where it collapsed upon itself into a colorful pool on the floor. Basil also undid his orange tie just so he would be more comfortable.

“I think I have a spare change of clothes in the closet over there, Dorian, if you’d like to sleep in something other than your suit. I should have a large shirt, and a blanket somewhere,” Basil said.

Dorian flicked his wrist in place of shaking his dizzy head. He then began to undo his blue tie as well. “No, no, Basil. I’m fine just like this.” He hung his tie on the back cushions of the divan. “Now, where are you going to sleep?” he asked.

“Oh, right here,” said the painter, shuffling around in his little spot on the floor. “I hope you don’t mind but I want to stay close to you tonight…considering how you are feeling.”

Dorian Gray frowned. “I don’t mind at all but Basil, won’t you be uncomfortable? I won’t have you sleep on the floor… It is far too uncomfortable.”

“I’m comfortable so long as I’m next to you.”

The painter looked at him with sincerity and nodded slightly with his head. Dorian could not help but smile brightly at his friend. It was the brightest he had smiled in a long time, considering how he had been feeling for the past few years. To have a friend that would, under any circumstances, help him and stay next to him in his lowest moments meant more than the world to him. Basil in particular meant more than life to him.

“You truly are a selfless man…” Dorian mumbled. He wriggled around on the divan. “But I’m sure I could make at least some room for you if you needed—“

Basil put a firm but gentle hand on Dorian’s shoulder, grounding him and stopping him from any more movement. He simply shook his head and insistently said, “No, thank you. I appreciate your kindness but I cannot share that space with you. You are more in need of it than I am.”

“Then sleep on a chair at least?” suggested Dorian.

“I haven’t any real chairs, only stools. Now let’s stop this banter and get to sleep, Dorian. We are both terribly exhausted,” Basil said.

Basil removed his hand and Dorian settled down into the cushions of the divan. Dorian watched as Basil reached over for his previously discarded coat and began to fold it up into a lumpy square. He placed it where his head would lie.

A hand ran through Basil’s hair to slick it back, moving it away from his eyes. As he went down to unbutton his vest he began: “I apologize that I do not have a bed or a fuller sofa in here; this divan is all I—“

Dorian took a hold of Basil’s cheek and pulled both Basil and himself into a hearty, rich kiss. The painter, startled by the swift action, uttered a noise of confusion but was soon comforted by the soft hand on his cheek that ran its thumb in a loving, stroking motion. Basil’s stiff shoulders dropped and his brows settled right above his closed eyes. His hands inched up to hold Dorian’s arms; his grip was not too tight nor too loose, just loving and full. Dorian removed his hand from the other’s cheek to push up the spectacles obstructing him from fully pressing his face against Basil’s. Their noses scrunched up against each other’s cheeks. Dorian returned his hand to Basil’s face for the remainder of their kiss.

When they separated, Basil’s spectacles fell down onto the bridge of his nose. He adjusted them along with some ruffled parts of his beard where Dorian’s hand was. Dorian pulled his sore body back onto the divan and hugged a pillow close to his chest. His pale cheeks flushed a bright rose color. It was as if the kiss had breathed a bit of life into Dorian, returning him to the youthful man he once was just for a moment.

“The divan is fine, Basil, I can make do with it,” Dorian whispered.

“I promise I would offer you something better if I had it.”

“Hush, I don’t care. You already offer me the best.”

Basil shuffled around to lie down on the wooden floor. Carefully he placed his aching head on the makeshift pillow he constructed out of his coat, and wriggled around just enough so he could have a decent view of the man lying a few inches above him. He had to keep an eye on him during the night.

Basil went back to unbuttoning his vest. “Come morning I will go to the market to fetch us breakfast. Then I will try repairing the ripped parts of the canvas, maybe even call in another psychic or priest to look at it, one from Cambridge since we have tried most of the ones in London,” explained Basil.

A sigh escaped through Dorian’s parted lips. He subtly wiped away a tear that formed in the corner of one of his eyes. “I would not worry about the last part. You already have done so much for me and it has proven a failure, so stop while you are ahead. It has made itself clear to me that I must live like this for the rest of my life,” he replied, his voice dry and low.

The painter shook his head. “I am going to try everything until I run out of things to try, Dorian. I promise you, we will try something else if another doesn’t work. You do not deserve to live under this anguish. I am going to help you out of it,” he declared, his voice propelled by the thumping in his chest. His hand slowly crept upwards for Dorian’s, whose hand he squeezed tightly once received. Quietly, almost as if people were listening in, Basil raised his head to speak solely to Dorian. “I will do anything for you, Dorian Gray.”

Hearing Basil’s statement made Dorian shudder. Many people have declared such devotion to him over the years, just to all end in shambles and ruin because of him. Dorian knew he had already ruined Basil Hallward despite the man’s countering rebuttals. It was plain to see: Basil was exhausted, his hair was greying, and he was no longer the man he was when they first met. Dorian was confused as to why Basil continued to stay devoted to him and for a moment it plunged him into deep thought, but he was pulled out of it when he felt his hand being squeezed by the man lying beside and beneath him. Then he realized it.

Basil Hallward, unlike others, saw that Dorian Gray too was struggling. He saw that Dorian Gray was in pain as well, and it only came after he had caused others pain, after he had realized that he was acting on another’s dime, whether it was Lord Henry’s or whoever got a hold of him at whatever moment. Dorian Gray became the puppet to many masters. Many saw that he had become the master to many puppets. Basil saw how disheveled the marionette had become after letting so many masters pull on his strings, teaching him to become a master as well. Dorian Gray, in a sense, was used, chewed up, tossed to the curb, and Basil could see it all. Dorian only wished Basil could see that through all of the usage, chewing, and tossing: he, in another light, became a master of puppets too.

But Dorian was done now. He had cut off all of his masters’ strings and threw away the stage on which he performed, and had others perform. Now he had to cut off the portrait’s strings. The portrait had a control over him that he could not quite identify or come to, but he tried to make sense of it many times over again in his mind. It had a grip on him like the full moon does on a werewolf, or like blood does on a vampire. Dorian wished he could understand what was being done to him that he could not see, because then if he understood, maybe distancing himself from it would be much easier.

With another sigh, Dorian squeezed Basil’s hand as tightly as he could with whatever strength he had left for the night. He kept it close to his lips, almost wanting Basil to feel his breath on his hand to ensure that he was there, that he was still alive under the portrait, that there was still a Dorian Gray somewhere. A tear had rolled onto it while Dorian lied there in silence.

“I love you, Basil Hallward,” he finally murmured after allowing himself time to put his thoughts aside.

Basil secured his grip on Dorian’s hand. He picked himself up to kiss it before sinking back down to the ground. “I love you too, Dorian Gray. Good night.”

Dorian emitted a soft whimper. “Good night, Basil.”

🫐🍑

I’ve returned with more doodles 👍 (click on the images to see them better-)

Headcanon time :D

So Basil is a big simp and he likes doing things for Dorian (his love language is acts of service 💅). Sometimes that means buying him flowers while it’s pouring rain outside and delivering them to his house. He buys Dorian flowers at least once or three times a week (depends on his money flow) and switches up what kinds of flowers he buys based on the weather (haha), Dorian’s mood, and his own mood. But all of the flowers he buys are always Dorian’s favorites…and Dorian has tons of favorites. Basil dances right on the lower class line and his money dwindles every now and then. He doesn’t make enough money from commissions to support himself, an art studio, and the rent for his crappy apartment that he’s renting from some people he knows. Dorian, someone who has money and who knows how to finance it better, always tries to help Basil with increasing his prices, evenly spacing out his money for things, and he even tries to convince Basil to let him financially support him (or even move in), the whole shabang. Basil doesn’t accept that help because he’s Mr. “I’ll do it by myself.” Basil’s stubbornness and extreme independence definitely frustrates Dorian from time to time, but he understands why Basil is that way. Basil’s always had to make it on his own even from his early days; it’s all he knows, and he just likes doing things himself. He feels that it’s more fulfilling. But, he definitely does not ration his money correctly. No, he doesn’t spend it all on random stuff or all in one place. He just spends too much of it on his studio and uses whatever’s left to sustain himself and pay rent…and it’s usually never enough for both. Dorian and Lord Henry have tried lending him money. He refuses both. I could go deeper into why Basil’s the way he is but that’s for another time. But all I’ll say is that Dorian just loves him a lot and wants the best for him, and doesn’t want him catching a cold from running around in the rain 🫢. He appreciates Basil’s independence, but he wants Basil to know that it’s okay to ask for help sometimes or to loan money…and that he doesn’t have to buy Dorian flowers every single week (even though Dorian does love the flowers and little notes Basil writes him) 😌. They’re both learning together :)

Hey folks! I got to doodling two days ago and I felt like doodling these two! I don’t draw them nearly enough. I must draw them digitally; maybe I’ll digitalize these drawings if I can’t draw something new in time. I have such a soft spot for these two, it’s unbelievable. They are literally the definition of “comfort character” 🥰. I really need to make a The Picture of Dorian Gray head canon post because I’ve been brewing some stuff up about these two and Lord Henry. Just warning you, most of it will be Basil x Dorian 🫢

Hello folks 👋. I haven’t posted any original art in a while so I decided to post these digital pieces of Basil I did for a school project. This is the same sketch reused three times, I just changed his clothes, facial expression, and the bgs (don’t look too hard at those). LOOK I HAD TO SAVE TIME OKAY- I have other stuff to post from this project and I’ll give more context there 🤷‍♀️

Please enjoy copy and pasted Basil Hallward

Hey folks 👋. Here’s more from that silent graphic novel I had to make for my graphic novel class. I said in the last post that I’d explain this a bit, so here goes (TL;DR at the end):

In class we read “God’s Man” by Lynd Ward, a silent graphic novel about an artist who sells his soul for a magic paintbrush. (Fantastic gn btw, I recommend it). After that we were assigned to make our own silent graphic novel (no words) that followed a popular phrase/saying, so I chose “love conquers all” and ofc used Basil and Dorian. But I interpreted the phrase in a more “love wins” kind of way. My graphic novel begins with the two walking around London when a man notices they have their arms linked. He proceeds to bash them for it so they leave, not wanting to cause any trouble. The next panel shows Basil in his studio painting and the painting is of him and Dorian in a flower field. The painting is then hanging up in an art gallery for people to see. Gallery-goers notice that the painting depicts two men in a very affectionate way…and the painting gets torn down and destroyed. In heavy dismay Basil makes his way home to Dorian and is lovingly comforted. The two images show the beginning of the graphic novel (Dorian & Basil walking around) and the very end of it (Dorian comforting him).

I kinda wanted to show that love wins no matter what you may endure. In the comic they both endured some slander from folks who aren’t very accepting, but at the end of the day despite what happened, they have each other. Kinda cheesy I know but I really didn’t want to do “don’t judge a book by its cover” lol 🤷‍♀️. I am not gonna post the other panels of this comic bc they’re ugly so don’t bother asking for ‘em. I’m only posting the pretty ones. Even then these were rushed and aren’t my best effort 💀. I’ll post something pretty eventually lol. Either way I hope you like it?? I had fun making it

TL;DR: Made a silent graphic novel for class. These are the beginning & ending panels (some other panels are in another post). In the gn Basil and Dorian experience homophobic shit but in the end they have each other so yay 🙌